What Is In A Name?
by Raven-Rach
Summary: Jace often wondered who he was. He sometimes wondered if he was schizophenic... but mainly he wondered how Clarissa Fray managed to have such a strong hold over him. What is in a name? He was still Jace, whoever that was... Oneshot, JxC.


**This is another Clary/Jace drabble- I used a lot of ideas that I used in To Love or To Destroy and Bedside Manner, so don't be surprised to see similarities as some lines are taken directly from them!! Let me know what you think, and don't forget to vote for all your favourite authors in the Mortal Instruments Awards being run in the Discussion Forums. There are some amazing writers on this thread and I really hope that they get the acknowledgement that they deserve =]  
Thank you for reading!!**

_Disclaimer- I do not own Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare or the Shakespeare quote used._

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Jace was in a bad way. He was turning into a mush of sappy human emotions and he detested it with every fibre of his being. He no longer knew who he was, the very essence of what made Jace _Jace _was quickly fading away. It was slipping between his fingers, and no matter how hard he tried to cling to it… he just couldn't. Not too long ago, he had been Jace Wayland: a teenage warrior who lived with fellow warriors, his best friends and closest family. Then, he had morphed into something else: Jace Morgenstern. A boy who was the spawn of an evil megalomaniac. A boy designed to be a monster, who was brought up tainted by his nefarious father. And now, now Jace didn't know who he was.

So he had been given surnames- each one holding a different definition of a piece of him, and none could begin to describe him as a whole.

_What is in a name? _Shakespeare had mused. _That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet._

It was true, Jace thought, what bearing did a mere name have over him? It didn't change who he was, and it didn't help anyone- not least himself- to determine who he was deep down. Especially when he discarded the surnames and still remained confused. But one thing that Jace did know, was that he was no rose. Jace was far from sweet. All he had was the prickling thorns.

The golden haired Shadowhunter had always held a very definite view of himself: he was primarily one of two things- silent or sarcastic. He was also strong, smart, fearless, devilishly handsome and witty- but silent and sarcastic were what he considered to be his main descriptors. But Clarissa Fray had rendered him utterly perplexed. The girl with those hypnotising emerald irises and flowing red hair managed to mix him up and make him want to change his core beliefs. His belief that love was pain, and that to love was to destroy. While Jace didn't want to believe in love, didn't want to admit to having anything to do with it- he wasn't sure if he was able to deny it.

When he looked the stubborn, flaming haired siren that was Clary, he felt different. He suddenly didn't care only about himself or his duty as a Shadowhunter- he wanted to protect her, to keep her away from his world but never leave her side. It was a feeling he both loathed and loved. Somewhat like Clary herself- he thought that he might love her, yet he hated what she was. _His sister_. A person he couldn't physically, emotionally or mentally bring himself to hate. No matter how hard he tried. And, oh, but he had tried. The crippling love was impossible to deny, even to his hardened heart behind its solid walls of egotistic comments and sarcastic flippancy.

Each time his eyes traitorously landed on her bright smile, Jace tried to remind himself. He tried to tell himself that he was her brother. No matter how many times he said that word to himself it refused to lose its meaning for him. Each time he whispered to himself, he felt as though someone was stabbing his chest with a rusty knife. They twisted the blade cruelly before salting the gaping wound. Brother. He was her brother. The one who was supposed to be there to pick her up when she fell down, to size up boys like Simon and threaten to break their faces if they broke her heart. _He_ wasn't supposed to love her himself, just like _she_ wasn't supposed to break his heart. Jace Wayland- Jace Morgenstern- was not supposed to have a heart.

Yet, Clary's Jace was a different story altogether. No matter how hard he tried, the person he became around her was completely contradictory. So drastically different to his other aliases that his head became horrifically confused. Thoughts rushed around in his mind keeping him up at night. As soon as he shut his eyes they got increasingly worse, until he sighed loudly in frustration and was forced to open them again. Slide-shows of her face, of her smile and the way that she spoke all rushed around in a spiralling stream of thoughts that circled continuously, never ending. Jace began to think that his head felt too busy, too many trains of thought were going on in there at once- he was worried that there would be a pile-up on the tracks any time soon. A horrible train wreck of smashed metal and twisted debris. Around Clary, the train wreck of his life was imminent- but the way that she could make him feel made him believe that it would be worth it.

As he lay awake at night, Jace continually attempted to decipher who he was. _Who am I?_ The question itself sounded ridiculous to his inner ears. It taunted him and told him that he needed psychiatric help. The question plagued him constantly. Yet Jace never discovered an answer, he merely succeeded in analysing each separate part of him and making himself even more bewildered.

Jace Wayland lived for hunting, he lived for the fight.

Jace Morgenstern was a masochist who lived for pain.

Clary's Jace lived for Clary.

It was a messed up arrangement, three people fighting for dominance in the one body; each breaking through at different intervals. The thought of it alone made the Nephilim's head spin and ache. It was too much- it was head wrecking and destroying. It tore him to shreds. There were moments when Jace was sure that he knew who he was: he would be in a bloody battle, fighting a hellish demon and victoriously winning- at that moment he would be sure that Jace Wayland was who he was truly meant to be. He was sure that he should live for the fight and nothing else. That he should abandon all other thoughts- specifically those relating to his sister.

Jace Wayland would walk contently down the street, completely decided on who he was. He would traitorously think of Clary walking beside the parasitic vampire that she called her best friend, and the assured bubble of exultation would burst. Jace Morgenstern with his dark cloud of masochism would kick in immediately. He would tell Jace that he deserved to live in pain, that happiness was overrated and not made for him.

But then, just as his mind was made up, Jace would see Clary. He would see her face and all he wanted to be was hers. Even if it destroyed him. Even if it destroyed every single bit of him, and not just the bit that belonged solely to her. Even if it destroyed more then his conflicted heart.

So Jace let his schizophrenic nature override his system as he desperately hoped for a moment of clarity. For that one shining silver star in a bleak onyx sky. Yet, it always seemed to be his heart that won out. He was always led back to Clary. She was all that mattered and he was always brought right back to her. Even if he didn't always want to be. She held his heart, and the heart determined the person- didn't it?

What is in a name? Only the heart truly matters.


End file.
